Articles

David Meissner has written various articles for Highlights Magazine for Children. His first-person narrative, High in the Mountains of Ecuador, was named Photo-Essay of the Year in 2005​.

​More recently, David interviewed basketball player Leandro Barbosa about his journey from Brazil to the NBA. The resulting article, The Brazilian Blur, appears in Highlights' March 2018 issue.

Both articles are reprinted below with permission.

The Brazilian Blur

Beep, beep! Here comes one of the fastest basketball players on earth. This player is so fast that by the time you turn around, he’s already dropping the ball into the basket.This player is so fast that people call him the Brazilian Blur.

His real name is Leandro Barbosa. He has played as a guard in the National Basketball Association (NBA) since 2003, and he won a championship with the Golden State Warriors in 2015.

In addition to being a great player, Leandro Barbosa is a really nice guy. Always smiling, he is known for being kind to young fans, making people laugh, and cheering up his teammates when they’re having a bad day.

To the outside world, life may seem easy for someone like him—a famous basketball player who lives in a big house and wears cool new sneakers.

​But life has not always been like this for Leandro Barbosa.

Growing Up in Brazil

Leandro grew up in a poor neighborhood, called a favela, in São Paulo, Brazil. He shared a small house with his mom, dad, brothers, and sisters. They didn’t have money for beds, so Leandro slept on a dirt floor in the same room with all four of his older siblings.

There were days when his family didn’t have enough food to eat. But Leandro’s brothers and sisters always looked after him—they fed him first, even if it meant they would go hungry. Leandro didn’t have shoes, so he played soccer barefoot.

At age four, Leandro started working to help his family earn money. He sold fruit at an outdoor market and carried groceries for people.

When Leandro’s mom put him to bed at night, she would say, “Be happy no matter what. Life is short. Enjoy the day you have. Be happy and smile.”

When Leandro was five, he started playing basketball. “My brother taught me,” he remembers, “and every day I asked for more teaching.”

When Leandro was six, he told his family he wanted to become a professional basketball player. “Mom,” he said, “I’m going to bring money home to you. I’m going to work hard.”

There were no basketball courts near their house, so Leandro’s brother Arturo signed him up for a basketball club on the other side of the city. Leandro had to ride four buses just to get there.

Leandro’s skills improved. He carried his basketball with him everywhere. Arturo made sure that his little brother practiced all the time—even if it was raining or cold outside.

Leandro dreamed about playing in the NBA. He read about superstars like Michael Jordan and watched games on TV at a friend’s house.

By high school, Leandro was a standout player. He still didn’t have money for sneakers, so he wore old ones that his teammates didn’t need anymore.

​When he was just 19 years old, Leandro was the youngest player to make the Brazilian National Team. He traveled to the United States for the World Championship. NBA scouts watched him play—and they were impressed.

Making It to the NBA

The following year, the Phoenix Suns picked Leandro Barbosa to be on their team. When the coaches gave him a tour of the fancy locker room—and when Leandro saw his own name on a locker—he couldn’t believe his eyes. “It was everything beautiful for me,” he said. “I never saw something like that . . . the arena, the TVs, and the refrigerator with all those Gatorades.”

Leandro was so happy, he wanted to sleep in the locker room that night. “I want to enjoy my dream,” he explained. “I want to make sure I’m here.” The coaches were surprised, but they let him spend the night there.

​After all his hard work, Leandro deserved to enjoy that special moment. His childhood dream had finally come true.

High in the Mountains of Ecuador

It was late afternoon when I arrived in the village of Angahuana. I had traveled by truck high into these green mountains and then walked along a curvy road. All I carried in my backpack was clothes, water, and a sleeping bag. I didn’t know what I would eat or where I would sleep that night, but I did know that I was looking for a farmer named Don Segundo.

Earlier in the day I had seen a pig riding on the roof of a bus. I had seen women dressed in pink pulling potatoes from the ground. I had seen dogs without leashes run to the edge of the road and bark at me.

Life in the Andes Mountains was very different from my life in the United States—and my head hurt from trying to understand it all. I had been excited about working on farming projects in Ecuador after college. But everywhere I went people stared at me. I didn’t look, dress, or speak like anyone else up here.

Angahuana was a small village on a steep mountainside. The stone road curved past houses, a church, and an elementary school. Behind each house were fields where families grew crops like beans, onions, and potatoes.

Meeting Don Segundo

Don Segundo’s house was made of bricks, wood, and dried mud. Hopefully this was where I would sleep for the night. From the road I shouted, “Hola! Hola? Don Segundo?”

A short man in a blue coat appeared from behind the house. His brown eyes sparkled, and his whole face smiled. “You must be David!” he said in Spanish. “You can sleep here tonight. Come, let me show you my mora plants.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Don Segundo and I dug in the ground and planted blackberry bushes. We also talked about how we would work together for the next two months. Our biggest project was building greenhouses so that people in Angahuana could grow tomatoes and sell them down in the city.

Before it got dark, Don Segundo and I hiked up a narrow path to put his cows in the corral for the night. On our way down, the cold air was silent except for the sounds of our footsteps. Across the valley stood a giant snow-capped volcano.

A Family Dinner

We ate dinner in a dark but cozy kitchen. Don Segundo’s wife cooked over an open wood fire. We sat on log benches and ate tasty beans called habas. We dipped them in salt, sucked out the beans, and tossed the shells into a bowl.

Don Segundo’s two daughters were about ten and twelve years old. They cuddled together in a blanket and rested their bare feet on the floor. They giggled and whispered to each other in a language I couldn’t understand. I don’t think they had ever seen a person with white skin and green eyes.

Our main dish was warm potato soup with meat. After dinner we sipped sweet tea, and everyone seemed more relaxed. The girls stopped speaking in Quichua and asked me questions in Spanish.

I told them about my life in the United States. I described the dry Arizona desert. I explained that instead of growing our own food as they do, we buy it from big grocery stores. Then I showed them a picture of my brother, sister, and parents. The girls thought it was funny that we had four cats, one dog, and a turtle.

Feeling at Home

Even though this land had seemed so strange at first, I began to realize that we had many things in common. This family had also been nervous about meeting someone from the other side of the Earth. But here we were in their kitchen after dinner—laughing, talking and telling stories.

When my eyelids began to droop, Don Segundo showed me to a room with a small bed. I lay down and thought of all the new things I had seen, smelled, and tasted in just one day. Soon I heard whispering from the room next door. Kids’ eyes were spying on me through a crack in the wall. I waved to the wall, and it seemed to giggle back. Then I said good night, clicked off the lone light bulb, and fell deep asleep, high in the mountains of Ecuador.